


I Was Chewing On A Pen...It Was Red.

by A_BadSpellr



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-06 00:39:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 4,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6730252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_BadSpellr/pseuds/A_BadSpellr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Flash Fiction and Dialogue only stories. Random topics, random tropes. Almost all Olicity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Observance

** Observance **

“Oliver?”

“…”

“Oliver.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“It.

"I’m not doing anything.”

“ _Sure_ you aren’t.”

“…”

“…”

“Felicity.”

“Hmm?

"You’re doing it too.”

“Dong what?”

“That thing.”

“What thing? I don’t do a thing.”

“You’re thinking about it.”

“About what.”

“Do you know what today is?”

“Saturday?”

“April 22nd.”

“Oh…OH.”

“Mhmm.”

“We need to leave-”

“Hey guys! What’re you doing here?’

"Sorry Barry, we were just on our way out.”

“But, you guys just texted me to meet you.”

“And now we have to leave.”

“Why?”

“Religious observance. I’m Jewish.”

“…I know that. Felicity are you ok? You look really red…”

“Yeah I’m fine. This just happens sometimes. Anyway, we have to go now-”

“What is this holiday called?”

“It’s a day to honor The Fallen. She taught me the ritual last year. It was rushed, so I didn’t have an opportunity to truly understand it, but it helped to bring us together. It opened up my heart in a way I could never have imagined.”

“That’s really cool. Maybe I could come with you guys and-”

“No! He’s mine!”

“…ok.”

“Sorry. Its a big deal. Observing The Fallen with someone is a super sacred thing. Like you can’t do it with anyone else. Ever. Only them.”

“Yes. She tried to explain this to me last year. Unfortunately I had other things on my mind. This year I plan to take my time so I thoroughly understand every last part of the ritual and its significance for her and myself.”

“"Bye Barry.”

“Bye guys…”

“So, _that_ happened.”

“I’m glad it did.”

“Why?”

“Because if I had to stare at you any longer remembering what you looked like under me, I would have taken you on the table.”

“Well there is a perfectly good table to use at home, so hold onto that thought.”


	2. Wrapped Around Her Finger

“Daddy?”

“Yes Ali?”

“Can I have ice cream?”

“I don’t know sweetheart. Mommy would probably say no.”

“Please?”

“…ok. But don’t tell Mommy.”

“I won’t! I won’t! I promise!”

“Ok, ok. Here you go.”

“Yay! I love you Daddy!”

“…I love you too Ali. More than you’ll ever know.”

“Good morning my little sunshine!”

“Mommy! Look! Daddy gave me ice cream!”

“Ali! You promised!”

“Oops…sorry Daddy.”

“Alizah Smoak. You know better than that.”

“I’m sorry Mommy.”

“Good. Now go wash up. And brush your teeth!”

“Ok Mommy!”

“…”

“I’m sorry. She looked at me with those eyes and I just-”

“Oliver Jonas Queen, you are in so much trouble.”

“Felicity, I’m sorry I won’t let our daughter have ice cream for breakfast anymore.”

“That’s a start.”

“…”

“…”

“…I’m going to be on the salmon ladder a lot tonight aren’t I…”

“You bet your ass you will.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Ollie, why don’t you have any comfy chairs? Stools are so overrated.”

“Speedy?”

“Hmm?”

“I wouldn’t sit there.”

“What? Why?”

“…”

“…oh my god Ollie. Really?”

“Felicity kind of-”

“Ew. No. Gross. Stop.”

“Sorry.”

“You guys have been back together for what, three days? Did you wear out the bed already?”

“…”

“…you did NOT-”

“We never…we never made it to the bed…”

“Is that why you’re wearing what you wore on Friday?”

“…yes.”

“Ok. I cannot have this conversation with you. We’re stopping right now.”

“Felicity has been-”

“I’ve been what - OhmygodThea!”

“Jesus! Ollie what is wrong with you? Get her a blanket or something!”

“Sorry! I'm sorry!“

"I'm really sorry you saw that. I will not do that around you in the future. Not that you’ll be here when Oliver and I have sex, I just meant that I won’t walk around you naked, Not that I have a problem with being naked. And neither does Oliver. He does not have a problem with it at all. Actually he took my clothes when I got here and I haven’t seen them since and why am I still **talking-”**

“Ollie, what the hell is wrong with you?!”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know you would be coming here. I thought we would be alone for a while.”

“Its been three days!”

“We hadn’t seen each other in a while!”

“God you are ridiculous!”

“Thea don’t touch that!”

“Felicity its just a…”

“…”

“…you did not…”

“We…never made it past the kitchen..”


	4. Cooking Tips

“Did you preheat the oven?”

"Yep."

“Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

“Last time you forgot to-”

“Well I didn’t. This time the food will actually cook.”

“Maybe you should check.”

“The red light is blinking! I read the manual and that means the oven is preheating!”

“How long has it been blinking?”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“Felicity?”

“…thirty minutes.”

“Have you changed the temperature settings?”

“…yes.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Because I wanted to finish breakfast before you got home from your morning run…”

“But it was my turn to cook today.”

“Its been your turn for three weeks! Why can’t it by my turn? I want a turn!”

“Felicity-”

“All I’m saying is that cooking in this house should be an equal opportunity activity. If you can cook, I can cook.”

“Ok, ok. Next time, you can cook whatever you want, however you want and I won’t stop you."

"Good.”

“Now, do you want some coffee before breakfast?

"No. No coffee. Can’t have coffee. Not for a while.”

“Why? What’s wrong?

"Doc said it wouldn’t be good for the little one.”

“…what?”

“You better get used to cooking for three.”


	5. Pet Names

“Come on, please?”

“No.”

“Please, please, please?”

“No.”

“Oliverrrrrrrrr…”

“Felicity, I’m not giving you a pet name.”

“It would be cute! You call Thea Speedy, John is Digg. I mean Digg isn’t a pet name but it still kinda counts. Why can’t I have something?”

“You have my heart.”

“That’s sweet. But that still doesn’t answer my question.”

“I’m not giving you a pet name.”

“But it could be something simple! What about honey? Or sweetheart? Sweetie? Wait no, my mom calls me that too much. And don’t try to call me baby either. I get the whole “Noboby puts Baby in a corner” thing is cute to most girls but-“

"Felicity, this isn’t Dirty Dancing. I’m not calling you baby.”

“Good because I’m not ok with that. Even if you probably be a better dancer than Patrick Swayze.”

“Good to know.”

“…”

“…”

“…is it really that big of a deal?”

“Felicity, do you know what your name means?”

“Yes. It means Happiness. Mom used to tell me Felicity and goth didn’t mix because you can’t be happy while being angry.”

“It doesn’t just mean happiness. It means intense happiness. A feeling so strong it fills your entire body with light and warmth. That’s what your name is to me. And that is better than any pet name.”

“Oliver…”

“You’re my Felicity.”

“…oh you are so getting laid tonight.”


	6. Waiting

Oliver stood in the Arrivals terminal in the airport, surrounded by people who were all happily greeting their loved ones. He paced back and forth along the railing, trying to keep calm. The flowers in his hand seemed a little like over the top now, but the bouquet had sounded like a wonderful idea when he bought them from the flower kiosk five hours ago. His phone was almost dead from the near obsessive checking of emails and flight times. He was tired, having been awake for the last thirty six hours. Thirty six hours that had lasted for years and seconds at the same time. His thoughts drifted back to the phone call again.

 

_Oliver fell back onto his cot in the Bunker after an exhausting patrol. The recruits were given the night off and he had done the patrol solo. Digg had quarterbacked for him. The whole thing felt like it had at the beginning, back when he was just starting out, before the recruits, before Ra’s Al Ghul, before Slade._

_Before Felicity._

_His phone buzzed next to his ear. He answered it without looking at the caller._

_“Hello?”  
_

_A soft sniffle came over the line. “Oliver…”_

_Oliver sat bolt upright. Felicity was in Central City to help Barry with Caitlin’s new powers. Something must have happened._

_“Felicity. What’s wrong? What happened?”  
_

_“Oliver,” she whispered, “ I know. I…I finally know.”  
_

_“Know what?”  
_

_“It isn’t real.”  
_

_The words sent a shock through his entire body. He knew exactly what she meant._

_“What?”  
_

_“Oliver…it isn’t real. You wanted to know but I told you I didn’t know. Now…now I do.” Soft sobs broke up her words, but Oliver understood perfectly.  
_

_“Felicity..”  
_

_“I want to come home…will you meet me?”  
_

_“Yes.”  
_

 

The conversation boiled down to one thing; what she had with Malone wasn’t real. But did that mean that she wanted to try again? She hadn’t said anything about getting back together, or even considering it. But she wanted him to pick her up. That had to mean something, right? Even if it was just as a friend, it meant she wanted him to be a bigger part of her life. Otherwise she would have called Digg. Maybe it didn’t mean anything. Maybe she-

“Oliver!”

He whipped his head around, searching for the source of the voice. When he found her, he couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. The look in her eye changed when she saw him. Time seemed to slow for a moment as a million thoughts flew between them. She smiled at him, and he felt like he would burst. He gave her a smile that he knew could light up a room. He saw her stop breathing for a moment. Then she was running flat out toward him, jumping into his arms, her luggage forgotten behind her. 

Oliver caught her and crushed her to his chest, breathing in her scent for the first time in so many months. Felicity’s arms wrapped around his neck and her legs hooked around his waist. They stood there, ignoring the world around them. This was a homecoming for them and them alone.

“I missed you,” she said into his neck.

With that Oliver finally knew the other answer. What they had was real, was worth fighting for, was worth trying again for. Oliver pulled her even tighter against him and she responded in kind. He held her to him, drawing comfort from her as she did from him. Then she softly kissed his neck and he smiled. 

They were going to be alright.

 


	7. Accents

“Hmmmm…”

“…”

“Hmmmm…”

“Felicity.”

“Yes?”

“You told me you wouldn’t do this I watched this with you.”

“I’m not doing anything wrong. I’m just happily watching the movie.”

“You’re swooning…”

“…Ok I am! But look at it Oliver! How is any woman supposed to resist Ewan McGregor when he sings and looks at you like you hung the moon?”

“…”

“Hey, where are you going?”

“I’m going to go patrol.”

“But Moulin Rouge-”

“Will still be on this scene when I get back. It was the last six times anyway.”

“…oh. My. God. Oliver Queen.”

“What?”

“You’re jealous.”

“What? No! I am not jealous. What is there for me to be jealous about. He isn’t even that good looking. Just because he can sing.”

“And is incredibly handsome and has a delightful accent.”

“…I can do an accent to…”

“What was that?”

“…nothing love. Just watch the film.”

“…Oliver.”

“Yes, Felicity?”

“Do it again.”

“Do what again?”

“British accent. Again. Now.”

“Pitch game love. See if you’re worthy.”

“Bedroom. Now. If you’re still wearing clothes when I get there I am ripping them off.”

“Yes love.”


	8. Watch Your Mouth

“Daddy, will you play with me?”

“I can’t Ali. I have to go to work now.”

“But the other kids aren’t as fun as you…”

“Mr. Queen, could I speak to you for a moment?

”Mrs. Hargrove? Is everything alright?“

“No Mr. Queen. I need to speak to you regarding your daughter’s recent behavior.”

“Her recent behavior?”

“Yes, specifically her language. Some of the other parents are…concerned about her speech-”

“Mrs. Hargrove I don’t understa-”

“Oh frak!”

“…”

“…”

“Frak frak frak, double frak! Heehee!”

“Do you understand now Mr. Queen?”

“Yes… I need to have a conversation with my wife..” 


	9. Forest for the Trees

Cold air blew into the room through the slightly open window at the back end of the bedroom. It flowed under the blanket and woke Oliver from one of the best dreams of his life. He had been curled up with the woman he loved after their third wedding anniversary and there was no one around for miles. They were happy, whole and for the first time in years, completely open with each other. Oliver turned over in the bed and felt a familiar warmth next to him. He ran a hand down her arm and felt her fingers thread through his. He felt the cool metal of her rings against his hand. He smiled. So it wasn’t a dream after all.

The last three years had been hard on them both. Felicity’s break up with Malone, after he was revealed to be Prometheus, was difficult on everyone. She had lost the one thing she had for herself and it sent her to a dark place. Oliver had fought with her, desperately trying to make her understand that her pain should be shared, that she wasn’t alone. It forced the biggest fight they had ever had. She even slapped him for telling her she needed to get help. 

That fight had paved the way for healing, in a way that would never have been possible before. The hours and hours of crying and holding each other, sharing secrets and fears with the one who hurt them the most; it was cathartic. It gave them strength to begin again, a new couple with new goals. 

Oliver slowly climbed out of bed, careful to gently move Felicity. She immediately rolled over to claim the heat from his vacated spot on the bed. She sighed happily and snuggled into the comforter. Oliver leaned down and kissed her forehead before exiting the room and walking downstairs. 

The yellow cottage they bought last year was far too big to be just a cottage, but Oliver liked to think of it as one. He walked into the kitchen and brewed a pot of coffee for himself. While the machine percolated, he began the slow and meticulous process of readying Felicity’s french press with just the right amount of grounds and hot water. He left her TARDIS mug, cream, sugar next to the press and poured his own. Felicity was protective of the french press. Oliver never poured it; he only ever readied it. Felicity told him making her coffee in the morning was one of her rituals. It was something she wanted to do for herself. It gave her the illusion of control, that she could start her day in control of herself and make the best of it. Oliver liked the theory.

He walked through the house and stopped in the living room to grab his grey hoodie from the overstuffed sofa. Truthfully, it was Felicity’s grey hoodie now. She wore it more than he ever did. He shrugged it on and made his way to the basement. They had added an outside porch under the deck on the main floor. It held two large padded Adirondack chairs and a table. It looked out onto the small river behind their home. The river surfaced sparkled with the early dawn light, a perfectly reflected sheet of glass. The bare trees held onto their few remaining leaves, while others still proudly displayed the orange and yellow color of fall. Frost coated the grass and fallen leaves, dampening the sound around him. The world was still and calm, a mirror of his inner peace.

Oliver sat in the left hand chair and leaned back. Their home was a far cry from the hustle and bustle of the loft in Star City, but choosing to live on the outskirts had proven to be helpful, even therapeutic. Their home became a place where they could simply be, unencumbered by the stresses of business, politics and vigilantism. After Felicity won back Palmer Tech, thanks to her and Curtis recreating the Power Cell that had powered Ray Palmer’s A.T.O.M suit, she had devoted all of her time to her vision of what the company could be. She had practically lived there for months and ended up running comms for the team from the apartment attached to the CEO office. Oliver hadn’t fared much better, having to essentially rebuild the SCPD from the ground up. Thankfully he had Quentin to help him find the men and women who could be trusted. 

The stress put a serious strain on their relationship. It was the peace offered by the house that helped them get through it. Here, they could decompress and analyze, lay out their plans and discuss what they felt. It became a calm eye in the center of a raging storm. They loved it here.

“Hey you,” said a sleepy voice behind him. 

Oliver turned and couldn’t help but chuckle. Felicity stood behind him, coffee in hand, wrapped up in the comforter like a cape. Her face lit up when he smiled at her, the small smattering of freckles highlighting her eyes. She walked up to him and moved the comforter so it draped over her as she sat between his legs and leaned against his back. He kissed the top of her head and she sighed. She reached be with her left hand and entwined their fingers.

“What are you doing out here,” she asked quietly, doing her best not to break the calm that surrounded them.

“Just remembering how far we’ve come.”

“I love you,” she said and pressed a kiss to his jaw.

“I love you too.”

They sat in silence as they drank their coffee. The sun slowly rose behind the house, highlighting the colors in the tress and accentuating the reflection on the water. A light fog drifted down the lake as the air grew warmer around them. A soft drip of water from the melting frost was the only sound. Oliver and Felicity sat there together, watching the sun brighten the world around them. 

“Sometimes I think nature is a little too on the nose with the metaphors.”

“ _Fe-li-ci-ty._ ”

“Ok, ok,” she huffed quietly. She put her empty mug down and took his as well. She wrapped the comforter around them and pulled his arms around her. This was where she felt safest. 

“Oliver?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t ever let me go.”

His arms tightened around her as he kissed her forehead. His reply carried as much conviction as his wedding vows.

“Felicity, you are my always. I will never let you go.”

She smiled and snuggled into his chest.

“Good.”


	10. Coming Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompt isn't really Olicity, but I can certainly imagine Oliver and Felicity being in this situation. This prompt was catharsis for me. I encourage anyone who needs to work through missing someone to use this idea. It really does help.

The papers in front of him crumpled and twisted, forming a ball of useless words and empty space to be thrown against the wall in frustration. This failed attempt at writing landed next to the previous failure, which sat atop another destroyed piece. These three formed the peak of a wrinkled white mountain of words, a monument to ineffectual words lacking the strength of emotion. All he wanted to do was convey a message to someone, a simple phrase that could encompass all that he felt. But how do you tell someone that she mean everything to you and make her see just how much everything is?

Simply saying the words wasn’t enough; it would never be enough. The phrase was too general, too unfocused. It implied laziness, an unwillingness to describe how she made him feel whole and safe. It ignored the storm of sadness and pain she weathered with him when he was hurt and broken. It pushed aside the small moments of bliss before they began their day where they just laid together and held each other. Everything meant everything and nothing all at once.

But to just tell her that he loved her was insufficient. He said it every day, the strength of emotion hidden behind the normalcy of the words. He said every variation of the phrase, hoping to illicit the same response; the small smile that reached her eyes and the happy little humming noise she made that told him she understood.  He tried to express it through actions as well, but they never felt genuine. She always appreciated the small coffee on her desk at 1:30 in the afternoon, or her favorite candles lit around a warm bath when she gets home, but those things never felt like they were enough.

She was worth so much more than just those small gestures or the simple words on the pages laying at his feet. He couldn’t distill her down to just a few ideas about what happiness is supposed to mean, or how it felt to have warmth flow through him when she touched him. He needed her like he needed oxygen or water. She was as essential to his life and identity as anything. Without her he was a hollow shell, a facsimile of a person drifting listlessly through their days. He wasn’t himself without her.

She was gone again, away on an excursion to work on her passion, reaching closer and closer to her dream. He was proud of her for taking the harder path, for working towards her desires even though it pushed her to her limits. She had taken a chance and was making the most of it, enjoying the good and the bad. She wanted this for herself and he would always support her because of it.

Today was their anniversary, marking another year of being an “us”. But today marked another year where she spent more time away from home than with him. He cherished every moment she spent with him, even when they did nothing but exist in the same room. But as her absences increased, he came to dread her visits as much as he needed them. He would be whole but he was never be whole for long.

He felt the tears falling again and watched the water stain the words on the page below. It was harder and harder to make it through the night without breaking down like this. He never told her about it because she didn’t need the added stress. She would call him and tell him about her work and her research and how she hated being alone and all he could do was offer platitudes because he was too busying crying himself.

“Please,” he whispered into the empty room, “please just come back. I know it’s selfish, but I can’t do this anymore. I need you…please.”

His shoulders heaved as he sobbed, begging for her to come back, his voice broken and defeated. The world closed in around him. A fist gripped his heart and squeezed, trying to crush him. For a second, he considered just giving up and resigning himself to being incomplete. He would live the rest of his life alone, remembering a time when he had experienced real happiness and hating himself for hoping. Hoping she would come back to him hurt even more than being alone.

A crash sounded behind him and heavy footsteps drew his attention. A warm body slammed into his back and arms wrapped around his neck. Hot tears rolled down his neck as soft lips gently touched his neck. Hands gripped his shirt like a lifeline and reached up to touch them. As soon as his hand go close it was grabbed, familiar fingers lacing through his and squeezing hard.

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I love you. So much. So so much. I’m back and I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying. I’m staying. I love you.”

Her voice was soft and laced with fear. Coming home to him weeping and begging her to come back would do that. He couldn’t say anything, he couldn’t respond at all. All he could do was resume his sobbing, but the tears were tears of joy. She was back. She was finally here with him.

He turned in her grip and pulled her into her lap, her legs on either side of his. He crushed her to his chest and breathed in her scent, smelling fruit and lavender and _her_. She wrapped her arms and legs around him and ran her fingers through his hair, whispering sweet words in his ear. He relaxed under her touch, feeling months and months of anxiety and depression slowly melt away. He held her and she held him.

They were finally home.


End file.
